


The Dinner

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: Deputy!Joan, F/F, Pre-Series, Student!Bridget
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-16
Updated: 2017-11-16
Packaged: 2019-02-03 04:05:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12740661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: A deputy joins a university student for dinner at a conference.Bridget and Joan meet before Wentworth.





	The Dinner

The conference hall was buzzing with people, all excitedly chatting with one another. Joan made sure she remained close to the walls with a clear view of all exits. She felt out of place. She wasn’t supposed to be here. Governor Simms should have been here instead of her, but Simms’ father had decided the yearly corrections’ conference had been a wonderful moment to die, so instead, she was now stuck here, having to attend these ridiculous presentations by people who seemed never to have set foot in an actual prison. Joan knew none of the governors, board members and other important people here. She was all alone. Suddenly a gentle voice next to her caught her attention.

“Quite the attendance, huh?” Joan’s head snapped to the left to identify the owner of the voice. A petite woman at least a foot and a half shorter than she was standing next to her, a soft smile on her face. Her blonde hair had been pulled into a ponytail, and she was dressed in light colours, contrary to most of the attending. The woman offered her hand as she introduced herself: “Bridget Westfall, University of Melbourne.” Joan hesitantly accepted the friendly offering and shook her hand. “And you are?” 

Clearing her throat, Joan responded: “Joan Ferguson, Hopkins Correctional Centre, deputy Governor.” Bridget smiled at her.

“Nice to meet you, Deputy Ferguson. If you’ll excuse me, I have a seminar to attend.” She picked a slim bag up off the floor and began to make her way through the crowd. Just before she exited Joan’s view, the Deputy called out: “It’s Joan.” The blonde beamed at her, nodding. Then she removed herself from the lobby.

 

That evening, Joan walked into the dining room of her hotel for the week. It was absolutely filled to the brim with people, and the hostess gave her an apologetic look as she approached the podium.

“I’m so terribly sorry, Ma’am, but I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for a table to become available.” Joan looked to her right, where the designated waiting area was located. At least fifteen others were standing there, awaiting their chance of getting food. She really didn’t feel comfortable adding herself to the steadily-growing group of people.

“Joan!” Suddenly, the gentle blonde from earlier that day emerged from the group, accompanied by a restaurant employee. From the looks of it, she was lucky enough to be escorted to a table by herself. “You must join me,” she commented as she passed Joan. “That is, if you’d like to.” Surprised by this sudden display of kindness, the Deputy could only nod in response. Together, they followed the young man to a table in a surprisingly calm corner of the dining room. Joan observed the people walking in front of her. The young man’s dress shirt had an unsightly smudge on his left cuff, and his shoelaces were starting to come undone. He smelled of sweat and coffee. Bridget seemed to be his opposite. She was dressed neatly and modestly in a navy chiffon dress. The Deputy felt a sense of apprehension settle in her abdomen at the thought of having dinner with such a feminine presence - after all, she herself was dressed in slacks and a dress shirt. It didn’t seem to bother the blonde at all, though. 

 

As the hours went by, it seemed Joan didn’t have anything to fear. She observed the blonde woman as she rolled the ring her mother had given her between the fingers of her left hand. Bridget was polite and well-mannered, and from the looks of it, knew a thing or two about etiquette as well. They spoke about the conference and the presentations they had attended today. It seemed she was studying to become a forensic psychologist. Joan didn’t really believe in the effectiveness of the whole field of psychology. She considered it a pseudoscience. It had never helped her. Bridget seemed quite passionate about it, though, so the Deputy decided to refrain from arguing with her about it. Passion for something, anything, was a healthy and admirable quality. 

 

Joan paid for the dinner. She insisted - after all, Bridget had been so kind as to invite her to join her.

“If it hadn’t been for you, I would still be standing in that line,” she tried to joke, forcing a soft chuckle. She immediately cursed herself for it. It sounded awkward, didn’t it?

“I don’t think you would have waited,” Bridget commented. The raven-haired woman froze. “I think you would have left,” she continued, “and then I wouldn’t have had the lovely company.” Joan blushed softly, before fleeing the scene as fast as she could, forgetting her ring in her wake. 

 

She wasn’t supposed to be having these feelings.

She wasn’t allowed to be having these feelings.

But then why was she having them?

 

More than two decades later, when she met Bridget again, Joan was sure the psychologist didn’t remember her.

 

On a Friday evening, she found an unmarked envelope on her desk. Inside was her long-lost ring, and a note.

 

_ Thank you for that dinner. _


End file.
